“Jared!”
She threw open the door.
“Hey, Mom.”
Dallas threw her arms around his neck, kissed his cheek, held
Jared said nothing. He felt rigid in her arms. She stood back and looked at him.
His dusky hair was still shoulder length. What was new was the goatee and a small ring above his left eyelid. He was wearing an old leather jacket, jeans, and dirty work boots spotted with white paint.
“Why didn’t you call?” Dallas shut the door behind him.
“Maybe you wouldn’t have wanted me around,” Jared said.
“What!” She embraced him again and held him close, as if he
were eight years old again and had come home from school crying because some older kids had made fun of him.
Jared pulled away. “So they got cameras out there in the front yard.”
“I guess we’re the story of the month.”
“That’s why I came in the back. Don’t think anybody saw me hop the wall.”
Dallas practically pushed him into a kitchen chair.
“Where’ve you been?” She sat across from him.
“Bakersfield. Painting houses.”
“Good work?” she asked.
“Used to be.”
“What does that mean?”
He sat back in the chair. “Did he do it?”
The directness of the question and the coldness of it hit Dallas like a blow. “No, of course he didn’t do it.”
“How do you know?”
“How can you say that?”
He drummed the tabletop with his fingers. “Anybody’s capable of anything.”
“Not your father.”
“Come on, Mom. Why not Dad? He’s human, isn’t he?” His eyes, cool and aloof, seemed to catch a vision. “We can do bad things — ”
“But not what they’re accusing him of. I know he couldn’t have done that.”
“Did you know this girl?”
“No, she was someone your father was counseling. She had a troubled background. Anybody could have killed her.”
“Right. Anybody but Dad.”
Dallas looked at her son and hardly knew him. She supposed she hadn’t known him since he returned from Iraq, but now he seemed even farther away.
“Listen to me, Jared. Carefully. I’ve seen your dad, looked in his eyes. He’s confused and scared. He tried to help a girl in trouble, that’s all, and then he wakes up accused of a horrible crime. And now he’s in a jail cell and everyone is writing about him as a criminal. He’s been convicted in the papers, the tabloids, and with oh-somuch glee. Can’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?” “When did he ever do that for me?” Jared stood up, almost
knocking his chair over. He turned his back on her. She felt the
onrush of bad memories from the many times Jared and Ron fought
and screamed at each other.
Suddenly Jared laughed. It was a short, disturbing chuckle. He
faced her. “It’s funny. I remember a sermon Dad did once, about
going through trials. I remember he said that sometimes God hits
a Christian with suffering in order to get his attention, if he’s been
sinning. And so that’s how suffering can be a good thing, la-dida. I remember that, Mom, because it scared the juice out of me.
Because I knew what a rotten kid I was and — ”
“Jared — ”
“Listen! I knew what a screwed-up case I was, so I was just getting ready to get hit with it, get God’s freaking wrath poured all
over me. Well, I’m over that now. Whatever this world is about,
it’s about getting garbage all over you. So maybe Dad was off doing
something he shouldn’t have, and now he can say God’s getting his
attention.”
Jared sat down again, looking halfway conciliatory. “Look, Mom.
I don’t know what I’m talking about. Forget it. If you saw Dad and
don’t think he did it, that’s good enough for me. I just don’t want
to see you hurt, you know? That’s the only reason I’m here. It’s not
because of him. It’s because of you.”
“Will you see him?” Dallas said.
“No.”
“He’s still your father
.
”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Stop it!” Dallas stood up. “I know you’re hurt, Jared, and I know
you’ve been through an ordeal. But don’t disrespect your father. He
doesn’t deserve that.”
“Relax, Mom, I’m not going to — ”
“Do you understand me?”
Jared looked away from her. “I’m not a little kid, Mom.”
But he was her kid, no matter what. Dallas embraced him again.
He said nothing but at least made no move to break away from her.
“Do you have to go back to Bakersfield?” she said. “Can you stay?”
“I sort of lost my job up there,” Jared said. “You know, if I ran a mortuary, nobody would die.”
“Jared — ”
“So if you have any painting needs, I’ll swap you for a bed.”
“You don’t need to swap anything,” Dallas said. “This is home. Remember? The peas in the pot?”
When he was little, maybe five, he heard the expression
just like two peas in a pod
and somehow got it in his mind that the four of them — him, his mom and dad and sister, Cara — were four peas in a
pot
. He kept saying it that way, until the family adopted it.
Jared closed his eyes and nodded.
“All right then,” Dallas said. “Let me get you something to eat.”
The theory of the penitentiary was that it would be a place of penitence. Stick a man in a cage and make him think about his black soul.
It works.
Of course, many of those held in isolation in the old days went crazy.
It’s the silence that kills.
They built this jail back in the sixties. It’s a big concrete block. Inside, a labyrinth of corridors, rows of cells, and metal gates. Garbage bags and sheets hang from cell doors to keep inquiring eyes from looking in. Shouts, curses, and clanging doors echo through the facility, which is penetrated here and there by a few shafts of sunlight.
But the silence remains for the celebrity inmates, like me. And in the silence, faces haunt you.
Faces. I see the faces of those I love.
Cara. My lovely daughter. She came to see me today and cried and I couldn’t hold her. So I see her face now, wet with tears even as she told me she loved me, and the vision torments me.
Jared. Wherever he is. His face is troubled, and so it troubles me.
Dallas. I see her face all the time. I can’t reach out to it; it just hovers over me. Hurt look. Accusing eyes. She tries to hide them. Can’t.
Yet these are not the only faces I see.
Melinda.
Even since her death, I see her face. It screams at me.
Like a demon.
At least he was doing something other than wallowing in selfdisgust. Still, Jared felt stupid behind the wheel of his mother’s SUV. He was not a soccer mom. But he was, for the moment, a delivery service.
His mother — cleverly now, he realized, to get him moving — had asked him to pick up this woman and her kid and bring them home.
Now this was going to be strange. Here was a woman with a face that had been through things. Her kid, only six. Jared thought of all the children he’d watched in the park. That crack in his heart that ached for them throbbed again now. What chance did a kid like this have with a father who beat up on his mom? What chance did any kid have these days?
On the way to the house, the woman named Tiana said, “Your mom’s a good person.”
“Yeah.”
“I mean, she didn’t have to do this.”
“That’s my mom. Always taking in stray . . . looking out for people.” He wondered what Tiana’s boyfriend was like, and why a girl stayed with somebody who slapped her around. He’d been with women. He didn’t quite get them.
“You were in the Marines?” she said.
“My mom tell you about me?”
“A little. Jamaal wants to be in the Marines.”
The boy was belted in the backseat. A six-year-old wanting to be in the Marines. How quaint.
“Tell him to go into football instead,” Jared said.
“Mama, is he in the Marines?” The boy’s voice was tissue-paper thin.
“Yeah, baby.”
“In war?”
Tiana asked Jared, “You been in war?”
“Can it, will you?” Jared snapped, though pulling the punch
a little. “Tell me how come you stay with a guy who knocks you around.”
“You don’t know anything about it.”
“I know it doesn’t make sense.”
“You got a woman?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Then you don’t know.”
Jared realized he was gunning the SUV too fast down Devonshire. He let up a little.
If you’re going to crash, do it when nobody’s in the car with you.
“You seen your dad?” Tiana said.
“What are you talking about?” He knew what she was talking about.
“He’s in trouble.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what you get, isn’t it? You live, you get trouble. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
“I just asked if you’ve seen him. A son ought to see his father.”
“That’s kind of weird, coming from you.”
“I was talking about you.”
“Yeah, well, don’t talk about me.”
“Real friendly.”
Oh yeah
, he thought,
it’s going to be great having these two in the house. Mom and her charity projects.
“I wanna be in the Marines,” Jamaal yelped from the back.
“No more talking,” Jared said. “Just let me drive.”
“Real friendly,” Tiana said.
The next day, Thursday, Dallas drove to Jeff Waite’s office in Encino, summoned by Jeff himself. His voice on the phone sounded troubled, which only added to her already overcharged nervous system.
She’d picked up tension between Tiana and Jared the moment he brought her and Jamaal home yesterday. And she knew why. It was becoming clear to her that Jared’s ability to relate to people was wounded, a casualty of war. She had to face the fact that this was no passing phase. He was out of it. Something had happened to him in Iraq. He was nearly gone, and she had to try to get him back before it was too late.
But how could she, when God dropped Ron’s arrest on her? Or allowed it to happen, or whatever the correct theology for it was. Yes, he was sovereign, she knew that. And she knew God did things that defied human explanation. That didn’t quell her hunger to know. This was her family at stake, and if she had to wrestle God like Jacob did, she would.
When she finally got to Jeff’s office building, Dallas realized she couldn’t recall any details of her drive there. She didn’t even remember what streets she’d taken.
Jeff’s unsmiling face did nothing to relieve the pressure. He closed the door to his office.
“Ron’s arraignment is tomorrow morning,” Jeff explained. “I just
got the arrest report from the DA’s office.”
“And? ”
“Not good. Sit down.”
“I don’t want to.”
“It’ll be better if you do.”
Dallas allowed herself to sink into a chair in duet with her sinking spirit. How much worse could this news be?
Jeff sat on the edge of his desk, facing Dallas with no obstruction between them. “How you doing, Dallas?”
“You have to ask?” She held up her hands. They trembled. “Don’t put me around the nuclear button.”
“You’re a lot steadier than you think. I know that.”
“Don’t fool yourself.”
“Your faith is what will get you through this.”
“Tell me the news.”
“All right.” Jeff folded his arms. “Melinda Perry, the decedent, was being counseled by Ron. She was involved in, basically, porn movies. Went under the name of Melinda Chance.”
“That’s been all over the news,” Dallas said bitterly. “They love that angle.”
“Did Ron ever tell you he was counseling this girl?”
“He hasn’t been too communicative this whole year. I just chalked it up to all he had going on. So, no, he never told me about her until I saw him at the jail. But that doesn’t mean he killed her. He didn’t.”
Did he, Jeff? Did he? Tell me flat out he didn’t do it.
“Let me tell you what the sheriff has,” Jeff said. “A deputy found the girl’s body early on the morning of the seventeenth, a Thursday, at a place in Pico Rivera called the Star Motel. She had Ron’s card in her purse. On Friday they interviewed Ron. He went in to the Pico Rivera station. Did you know about that?”
“No.”
“They asked him if he knew Melinda Perry and he said he’d been counseling her. They asked when the last time he saw her was, and he said either the tenth or the eleventh. They asked him where he was the night of the sixteenth, and he said he worked late at church. No one else was there, he said.”
“He sometimes worked late there.” At least, that’s what he told her.
Don’t let it be a lie!
“They asked him if he’d ever been to the Star Motel. He said he’d never heard of the place.”
Don’t be a lie.
“Dallas, hang on. They found carpet fibers in Ron’s car. They match the carpet in the room where the murder took place.”
Something hard and vicious scraped Dallas’s insides.
“Ron lied to the police, Dallas. That’s something we can’t avoid.”
“But
why
— ”
Because he did it.
No!
“He was scared,” Jeff said. “That’s what he told me. He went to the motel because she had called him on his cell phone. The police have a record of that call, on the night she was murdered. But Ron insists he just talked to her and left.”
“Yes. I remember something he said. This girl was scared that some bad people were going to get her. That has to be what happened. They followed her, or followed Ron, or . . .” She paused, trying to think. “Maybe they set him up.”
Jeff said nothing.
“Doesn’t it make sense?” Dallas slid to the edge of the chair. “This girl was in porn films. Ron’s a big enemy of the industry. He’s been working with our councilman, he’s been vocal.”
“Dallas — ”
“Jeff, that has to be it.”
He put his hand up. “Let me tell you the way it’s got to play out. We have to deal with the evidence as it is. No judge is going to let me argue a conspiracy theory unless we come up with something to show there is at least a shred of possibility.”
“Then let’s find it.”
“Believe me, Dallas, I have one of the best investigators in the city who’ll be on this. But right now you have to be prepared for some very bad days.”
And what’s it been until now, a cakewalk?
Jeff sighed and looked at the floor.
“Is there something else?” she asked.
“Yes. Some detectives went over to Hillside earlier today.”
“Detectives?”
Jeff nodded. “And they had a search warrant. They took Ron’s computer and a bunch of his papers.”
“But he’s got all his stuff on there, his programs, his work.”
“They have to preserve it all, under the law, but they can look at whatever they want.”
“Jeff, this is unbelievable. It’s so wrong.”
“It’s the way the law operates, Dallas. Sometimes it protects us, sometimes it invades us. Right now, it’s invading. It’s my job to get it all straightened out.”
But what if it doesn’t get straightened out? What then?
“What’s going to happen next?” Dallas asked.
“Ron’s entitled to a prelim within ten days of arrest. I’m not going to waive time. I’ll hold their feet to the fire and try to smoke out what the prosecution thinks it has. The sooner we force it the better. This is now a big, fat media case. The DA is out there on a limb claiming Ron is the murderer. They’ll fight every step of the way to make this stick. I just wanted you to be prepared. Don’t talk to anyone. Refer all questions to my office.”
Questions? She herself had a ton of them. Like, what really happened at the motel? And if Ron lied to the police, could he be lying to them all?